The Beauty Underneath
by LRRH17
Summary: They have been changed for good.


**A/N: Takes place after Infinity War, and over the span of "One Short Day" and "Defying Gravity." Title taken from "Love Never Dies." Thanks for reading!  
**

* * *

He has never been like the others; this he knows well. Thus, it is no surprise when the first thing that he notices about her isn't the first thing everyone else does.

It's the hat.

He does not visit here often, but even he knows that it is so glaringly _wrong_ for this realm's fashion. He smirks, nearly laughing aloud at its similarity to his own controversial choice of headwear.

Only then does he notice the emerald brilliance of her skin.

It helps that this particular shade of green happens to be his favorite color. And, she becomes even more intriguing when he notices the gold band wrapped around the base of her ridiculous black hat.

"Beautiful."

She starts at the whisper that comes from the darkness near her. Her (blonde, rambling, dull) travelling companion seems unaffected, though, continuing to blather on about their plans in the city. He holds his breath until her narrowed eyes have ceased their searching, thankful that he chose to conceal himself in the shadow of yet another green, sparkling building. She continues walking without looking back.

In that moment, watching her leave, he feels an all too familiar ache in his chest. He does not know her, but…he _knows_ her. The suspicion in her eyes – the obvious self-doubt, the feeling of being a monster, the emptiness that comes with such a feeling….

Yes, he knows her. He knows her as surely as he knows himself.

After a brief hesitation, he slips out of the shadows, cloaking himself from sight.

He follows her down this road of yellow brick.

* * *

When she and her companion enter the palace, he remains outside. Following her inside would surely reveal his presence, and he does not want that – not yet. He continues to stand there, watching as she breaks through the attic roof, broom in hand, soaring off towards the forest. He smirks at the sight, instantly teleporting himself near where he suspects would be a decent spot to land.

Her feet have barely touched the ground when she calls out, "I know you're there."

He blinks in surprise. Only a master of magic such as himself would be capable of detecting another individual using a glamour.

"Your studies are advanced, then," he replies after a moment, stepping towards her. She whirls to face him, rage and heartbreak glittering in her eyes.

"Did the Wizard send you?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Do I look like one of his guards?"

"You're wearing green, and leather," she retorts, pointing the wooden end of her broom at him in accusation. "I won't do it. I swear to you, I won't!"

He lifts his hands in a conciliatory gesture, hoping to calm her. "I am not with the Wizard. I was merely visiting the city when I saw you."

"And, what? You decided to follow me around?"

"I merely wished to speak with you. I assure you, frightening you was not my intention."

She lowers the broom's handle the slightest bit. "Who…who are you?"

He bows. "I am Loki, of Asgard. I am pleased to meet you, Miss…?"

"Elphaba. Elphaba Thropp." She extends a hand and, remembering after a moment that this is a custom in some realms, he takes her hand in his, shaking it. "Where's Asgard?"

He chuckles. "A bit far from here, I'm afraid."

She frowns, and he can practically see the gears turning in her mind. "How far?"

"Two realms," he replies plainly, grinning at her surprised expression. "You are a woman of magic, Miss Thropp. Surely you are familiar with the travel between realms?"

"Of course," she immediately replies, eyes flashing – and he _likes_ her. She continues, "But surely that wasn't why you wanted to talk to me."

So she is perceptive, too – and not easily derailed. Still, his mind has finally begun to catch up with his actions. It was all very clever, following her here and engaging her in conversation; but now...

Well. How does he begin?

"Miss Thropp. I believe that you have been through quite a lot recently."

Her eyebrows shoot up practically into her hairline, and he knows that he's made the understatement of the century. Chuckling humorlessly, he continues, "I understand."

She laughs, shaking her head. "No. I'm sorry, Loki, but there is no way you can possibly understand."

"Try me."

She meets his gaze, searching his eyes for the lie she is so used to finding in others' – but, for once in his life, he hides nothing.

With a great sigh, she begins her tale.

* * *

"No good deed goes unpunished."

"Exactly!"

His gives her a half-smile. "Did I not tell you that I understand?"

"Then what is your story, Loki of Asgard? Are you also burdened with an insufferable sibling, a horrific tale of your birth – which includes death, and a man who isn't really your father – and an irreparable skin condition?" she asks, levity in her voice for all the darkness she faces.

"Yes," he replies simply, meeting her gaze without hesitation. He lets the dark blue of his true skin wash away his paleness, feeling the usual chill sweep over him.

She does not even blink at the change. Instead, she reaches out, running a finer along the ridged lines of his forehead. There is only a fellow magician's curiosity in her voice when she asks, "Do you know what these mean? They seem very important."

"I do not. I suppose they have something to do with either heritage or abilities, though."

"Of course," she murmurs, studying his blood-red eyes. "And that color – it must be for light retention, right?"

He blinks. He'd never even thought of that before.

"It must be," he agrees. "I was born in a realm of ice – Jotunheim – but raised as a prince of Asgard. Odin, King of Asgard, stole me when I was only a babe, and never told me the truth. I found out by accident." He laughs humorlessly. "Frost giants are the hated monsters of Asgard, known for their inherent cruelty and wickedness. At least now I understand _why_ I am the way I am."

She sighs. "You _do_ understand me."

"I do." He taps her ridiculous hat with one finger. "I also share your taste in peculiar headwear; although mine is a golden helmet, with two large horns."

She laughs loudly, then covers her mouth with one hand, unsuccessfully attempting to mask her amusement. He can't help but smile back, chuckling.

There is something incredibly rewarding about making her laugh. Elphaba has gone through so much these past few days. If he can lighten her mood for just one moment – if he can give her a glimmer of hope – he will. It is what he would have wanted for himself, back when he first discovered the truth of it all.

"I'm sorry," she finally says, catching her breath, "but that sounds pretty awful."

He rolls his eyes. "Says the girl who just spent time in a sparkling green city. By choice."

Smiling, she removes the hat, setting it on the ground before her. He begins to transform back into his Aesir skin…only to be stopped by her hand coming to rest over his. He flinches a little at the contact – when was the last time someone touched him compassionately?

"For what it's worth," she says quietly, "I understand _you_ , just as much as you understand me. And, I like your natural skin color."

He smiles softly, genuinely, for what feels like the first time in years. "Thank you, Elphaba."

* * *

They talk for hours. It is truly rewarding to speak with someone who has been in his place. Before he knows it, the sun is sinking below the horizon. He must leave this unexpected sanctuary.

He had only come to this realm to heal from his ordeal on _The Statesman_ , and make a new plan, before returning to Thor's side. He never thought he'd find a kindred spirit – least of all one who seemed to actually require and appreciate his advice. The thought that he could be of some comfort to her is startling, but in a good way.

"Where will you go now?" he asks.

She sighs, readjusting her hat on her head. "I don't really know. I'll probably fly around to different parts of Oz, help out the animals for a while. I'm a fugitive now, I guess."

"That makes two of us. My people think me dead – _again._ I am not sure how to return to them without causing an uproar."

"An uproar?" she replies with mock confusion. "Is that a bad thing?"

He laughs. "Not in my opinion. Trust me, Elphaba – you will come to see that being wicked is such _fun_ sometimes."

"For now, I'll just have to take your word for it." She offers her hand again, and he takes it with surety this time, shaking it firmly. "Goodbye, Loki. Thank you, for…whatever this was. I enjoyed it."

"Likewise, Elphaba Thropp. I wish you the best. And, if you're ever on Midgard, feel free to drop by. You and I could make their mighty heroes' heads spin." He winks, if only to see her laugh one more time before he goes.

He is not disappointed.

He watches her fly away until she is no more than a speck of black in the darkening sky.


End file.
